Bastille Day...
Of course it makes perfect sense that our Breton course would continue on Bastille Day. Most of the rest of the city was closed up tighter than a drum, but a few of the restaurants were open behind the gare to provide for the many tourists who were still wandering around Rennes; one of the running jokes about Brittany is that it has four languages: French, English, Breton and Gallo. In the past few years droves of English tourists have actually taken up seasonal residence in the province.
Our daily routine wasn't much changed, and the heat was still to be contended with. The only strange thing of note during the day was when Sam gave me his email address. the adress contained the letters A and C, and I asked him what the significance of this was, and he laughingly said that it meant that he was "ACDC" (he is, in fact married). Later on during the day, he made mention of how much he liked my "Breizh" ring that I wear on my right ring finger. In another conversation we were talking about the Seremoni Cymry a'r Byd during the Eisteddfod in Wales, and I asked him if he and Raja were planning on attending. He said that they would be there that day, and then I mentioned that I had been on the main stage during the ceremony at the Eisteddfod in Meifod two years earlier, and that my friends in Wales had told me that they saw me on television. Sam joked that he had seen me too, pretending that he had been in Wales for that Eisteddfod and had been watching the ceremony on television. He said to me in Welsh (most of our conversations were in Welsh) that he remembered seeing this "cutie" on TV. By the end of the string of conversations I concluded that I had been hit on by and Australian, but in Welsh, something else to add to my list of real life experiences in foreign languages... It could well have been that he was joking, but joking or not, I don't play with married men, unless, of course, I don't know that they're married. There is something to the US military's "Don't ask, Don't tell" policy after all I suppose.
In the evening I went to the creperie behind the gare and had a gallette (a buckwheat crêpe filled with savories rather and sweets) stuffed with cheese, bacon and potatoes. I also had a Breton kir amd a mug of cider, all very tastey. Incidentally, the word crêpe is a Breton word. The French borrowed the original word krampouezh some time ago, and buried the "m" marking its grave with the circumflex. In old French it would have been crempes, and then later crêpe. The Bretons are respected all over France for their gift of the crêpe to French cuisine, and even in Paris you will pass a Ti Krampouezh, a crêpe house run by Breton immigrés to the Capital.
After supper it was back to the revisions and preparations for our last day of class.
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